


Unspeakable

by SophiaCatherine



Series: Neurodivergent DCTV [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Ableism, Ableist Language, Angst, Disabled Character, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Non-Graphic Violence, Protective Leonard Snart, Pyromania, canon character deaths briefly referenced, incorrectly implied underage sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 12:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13410903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaCatherine/pseuds/SophiaCatherine
Summary: 5 times people insulted Mick Rory when Snart was there, and 2 when he wasn’t.Or: the one where Mick Rory deals with ableism, mostly because of his speech.





	Unspeakable

**Author's Note:**

> (I'll just be over here writing Legends disability fic till the end of time.)  
> See end for more detailed content warnings.
> 
> This can really be read as either friendship or implied relationship for Len and Mick.

1\. Juvie

Mick knows how this game goes. He’s been forced to play it before - at school, in the children’s home, even with his own siblings, once upon a time.

Here, it starts when one of the guys is looking for an easy target for their boredom. Late in the day, usually, when everything is muggy and still, when people are trying to fill the endless hour between the time bomb of afternoon classes and the thrill ride of dinner.

At 16, Mick's already big enough to take down more than one of the other boys at once. But he usually doesn’t. They know that if they keep it subtle, keep it _verbal_ , Mick won’t be able to keep up. And when he eventually breaks in frustration, gets violent, it will look like he started it. That's the game - how far do they have to go before he kicks off?

Mick keeps beating his own record.

The afternoon sun is glancing off the white wall, bright and unforgiving. He shades his eyes and hears “Hey, Rory,” yelled from just behind him.

He keeps his head down and his hands in his pockets.

One of the other kids gets up and ambles over. He’s a head shorter than Mick. “Rory,” he says, with a twisted smile. “Maybe you didn’t hear my friend.”

“What?” Mick grunts.

All three of them are there now. One is pushing dangerously into his space, just far enough away that, if a warden decides to pay attention, he can raise his hands and complain _we weren’t doing nothing_.

“Saw you with the lighter today, behind the school block,” the close one - Fletcher - says. “You’re sick, you know that?”

In his left pocket, Mick feels the dented metal case against his skin. He thinks of white-hot flames and letting people burn.

“Gonna answer me, Rory?”

“Didn’t hear a question,” Mick mumbles.

Fletcher inches a little further into his space. “Where’d you get it?”

He shrugs. _Don’t talk._ It’s talking that lets him down, here as much as anywhere.

“‘Cause if you stole it, we might have to do something about that.”

Mick wants to laugh at that. He tries to say _pretty sure even you wouldn’t stoop that low, Fletcher_. What comes out is an unintelligible grunt, and he grimaces.

Fletcher laughs. “If you’re stealing things, you could at least share. Guessing that’s not all your little fuckbuddy takes for you.”

“M-my —” Mick starts to protest. He’s surprised to find that he’s backed up against the wall.

“Mah - mah - mah,” one of the other boys mocks.

Mick scratches in the dirt with his heel as something hot flickers in his guts.

“Boys.” A drawl emerges from up ahead of them. It’s followed by its source: a short kid, so skinny his clothes are hanging off him, with black, curly hair and a scowl bigger than the face it’s on. “That wasn’t very _nice_. I’d apologise to my friend, if I were you.”

Mick rolls his eyes. _Great_. The little punk has no sense of self-preservation.

Fletcher takes a step away from Mick. “The fuck do _you_ want, Snart?”

Snart leans lazily against the wall. “I told you. I’d like you to apologise.”

“Planning on making us?"

"If you like." 

Mick raises his eyes to the sky, again. The guys, who are all nearly double Snart’s size, are advancing on him. Well, he can forget relying on Mick for help. He’s not saving his ass this time. He’s _not_.

Snart doesn’t get into fights very often, mostly as happy to stay out of trouble as Mick is. So Mick had forgotten that he fights like a tiny fucking wildcat. He’s got no technique, but he’s taking on three guys with nothing but grim chutzpah, and it’s almost paying off for him.

Still, there _are_ three of them. And he did start this for Mick. Not that he asked him to. But it’s a better reason for a fight than he had before…

He’s silent for a moment.

Then he sighs, and jumps into the fray.

Later, Snart will complain that _the point was so you didn’t have to fight them, Mick._  And Mick will grin, and say nothing.

* * *

2\. Store

The lines are long at the supermarket that Saturday morning. The woman behind the counter looks hassled, scanning items at speed, avoiding the eyes of stressed customers.

They’ve run out of boxed mac and cheese at home, and it’s the only thing Lisa’s currently eating. Mick’s got five of the blue boxes in the cart. Neither of the Snart kids are inclined to eat well. Years of bare cupboards would have that effect, Mick suspects - not that they talk about it. Len has run off to fetch an extra loaf of bread.

(They’re planning on paying for the food, of course. They’re not petty shoplifters, and this is their own neighborhood.)

Len’s still not back as the cashier starts scanning the food. “Wait a sec,” he says to her. “...be right back.”

She looks right at him for the first time since he got to the front of the line. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Hold on, lady,” he growls.

“Is there a problem?”

“No!” He waves in the direction of Len, who Mick can now see returning from the other end of the store. “Just a sec!” he repeats. 

A look crosses the cashier’s face - half panic, half pity. She raises her voice significantly. “Is anyone here helping you?” she asks, slowly.

Oh, fucking hell.

He waves at Len, bangs his hand on the counter. The woman flinches back. Mick steels himself against doing the same. He grabs the bread out of Len’s hand, and all but throws it at the cashier. Len starts paying, and Mick backs away, fast.

He ends up outside, studying a price list in the window.

Len eventually finds him. Catching sight of Mick’s face, he asks “What happened?”

Mick says nothing.

* * *

3\. Safe House

“Dryden, you’ll be watching the front door. And Mick will be on the back door,” Snart finishes.

"Thought he was driving?” Dryden says, in his flat London accent. He’s a lean, balding man, with a scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Lisa’s our best driver,” Snart says, absently.

Dryden sneers. “Yeah, but him? You can’t leave _him_ in charge of anything.” 

In the corner, Mick scowls. His copy of the bank floorplan is suddenly fascinating.

Snart stops, looks up from the blueprints, and holds Dryden’s gaze with his own. “Excuse me?”

Dryden doesn’t look away. “Oh come on, Snart,” he says, louder. “First you bring your _little sister_ in, and now you’re putting this dumbfuck on the door?”

Snart stands up, slowly. “Dryden,” he says, in a low, dangerous rumble. “Are you questioning my planning skills? Because that might not go so well for you.”

Dryden glares, but shuts up.

The second time Dryden insults Mick’s intelligence, Snart waits till everyone is together, then silently turns a gun on him. Mick doesn’t see him on Snart’s crew again.

Mick says nothing.

* * *

4\. STAR Labs

“Mick,” Harrison says. “All we need is for you to describe the woman.”

“Sorry,” Mick forces out. They’ve been trying this for ten minutes now.

The meta had been on Snart’s crew. Taking her on board had been a mistake that they only realized after her earth-shaking power killed twenty bystanders. And then there was STAR Labs, and its people, who unnerve him more than any meta.

“You worked with her for a week, right? Can you at least describe her powers?”

Mick’s trying to find the words. “Shook the ground by touching it,” he says, eventually - but they already know that. "Kinda like she was - teleretic?"

"Telekinetic," Harrison sighs.

Mick shrugs. He's gonna go set a nice, big fire when they let him out. 

This is where Harrison snaps. He turns to give him a withering stare. “Are you actively _trying_ to be obstructive, or do you just not care whether we find this meta-human? I’m sure it doesn’t bother a _degenerate lout_ like you whether or not we find a raging killer, but you could at least drop the stupid act for long enough to try to help.”

An inexplicable cold runs through him. It’s like being shot.

Behind them, Snart coughs.

Whatever’s on his face, it seems to scare Harrison off, muttering about letting Caitlin get the details from Snart, as he goes. Then, silence.

Len glances at him. “OK?” he asks gruffly.

Mick says nothing.

* * *

5\. Hospital

“The burns are only second degree, this time,” the doctor says, from behind her shield of a white coat.

Mick grunts in vague reply. Most of him is still back at the fire, watching the savage, golden flames, letting them dance beneath his hands.

“We don’t need to keep you here, but you need to read this leaflet on burn care and follow the instructions,” White Coat says. “And change the bandages every day.”

She offers him the leaflet. He doesn’t take it.

Len pokes him in the hand that he didn’t burn. “Mick,” he says, quietly.

“Sorry, yeah,” Mick says, hauling his attention back. He takes the leaflet and looks at it. The words swim in front of his eyes.

She gives Mick an odd look - something like patronizing compassion. “Are you understanding me, Mr Rory?” she asks, more slowly.

That snaps him back. He tries to say _of course I understand you_. Nothing comes out. He stares at her, empty.

White Coat turns to Len. “Will you be able to read it to him?” she asks.

Mick’s stomach _drops_.

Len’s tone is lethal. “He’s perfectly capable. You talk to _him_ , doc. You got that?”

Mick’s eyes are fixed on the bright hospital floor. He’s shaking, by the time she finally leaves.

When they’re alone in the room, Len places a silent hand on his back.

Mick says nothing.

* * *

+1, Part 1  
Bridge, Waverider

Every member of the crew except Mick is crowded around the console. There’s an animated debate in progress, about how to stop an unwelcome timeline change from solidifying.

Mick is sitting on the floor of the study, listening. Eventually, he risks a comment. “That won’t work.”

“What? Of course it will,” Ray says. He doesn’t bother to look at Mick. Neither do any of the others.

Mick feels something smouldering inside him, low and treacherous. “No,” he says. “Timeline don’t work like that. Causality loop. Ain’t gonna work.”

Ray and Stein don’t even stop _talking_.

Mick sits quietly, there on the floor, for a minute. Until it becomes clear that they aren’t going to reach the solution that Mick already knows. He stands up. “Look,” he says, trudging over to console, pushing Ray out of the way a bit, so he can gesture at a data point on Gideon’s chart. “You see here? 1855? That’s where the timeline splits. We gotta go back _there_ , and —”

Ray, whose focus has remained entirely on the console, interrupts. “Mick, don’t worry about it. Leave this to the experts,” he says, in an absent but mostly friendly tone.

The seething glow inside Mick catches fire.

He takes two steps back and clenches his fists. “You think I don’t understand this? I know how to work out what a timeline will do if you create a causality loop! When d’you last run your own time ship, _Ray?_ Even the fucking Time Pigs figured out a use for me,” he finishes, trailing off into a mumble.

Ray’s face falls.

Everyone at the console has gone quiet. As one, they turn to look at Mick. (Oh, yeah, now they remember him.)

Sara sighs and rolls her eyes. “Mick. That was rude and uncalled for.”

He looks away. “All of you were rude first…” he mutters.

“That’s not the point. If you can’t behave appropriately towards another member of this crew, you can get off the bridge.”

He forces himself to walk, not run, the three corridors’ distance back to his quarters.

It’s only then that he allows himself to slump against the wall, slide down it, and put his head in his hands.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says, out loud, a few minutes later.

Over the drone of the engines, the answer is an unforgiving silence.

When he eventually returns to the bridge, he makes damn sure he says nothing.

* * *

+1, Part 2  
Stein's lab, Waverider

Ray has sent Mick in to ask Stein a question. He told him he didn’t want to - Stein can get short-tempered when he’s busy - but he said _oh_ _it won’t take you a second, Mick,_ and Mick just sighed and went.

“Professor,” he says, poking his head around the lab door.

“What do you want, Mr Rory?” Stein almost, but not quite, snaps.

“Crew needs you. We got a new abstractionism going on.”

Stein sighs audibly. “You mean anachronism, Mr Rory.” He turns back to his work. Then, absently, he says, “Get a dictionary and save the rest of us from doing all the work for you.”

Mick freezes.

Then he takes two deep breaths, in-and-out, in-and-out, like Lenny taught him for when he was feeling a panic attack coming on.

“Professor,” Mick says after a moment, slowly.

Stein sighs and looks in Mick’s direction, clearly annoyed to be distracted from his task. “Yes, Mr Rory?”

“I wanna tell you a thing.”

“Mr Rory, I’m very busy with —”

“ _I wanna tell you a thing,_ ” Mick repeats, firmly. Stein looks shocked and a little nervous, suddenly. (Good.) Then he nods.

“Lot of people make fun of me,” he says, quietly. “For how I talk. For being nothing but the muscle, like - when I was Snart’s partner. And ’cause they think I’m _stupid_.”

He’s dragging the words out. They’re fighting him, but Mick Rory doesn’t quit in a fight.

“Even Snart, sometimes,” he manages to say. “He’d tell me I was just the muscle, call me a brute without a brain, whatever. That was just how he was.” His gaze is fixed on the viewscreen behind Stein, but he’s not seeing the swirling colours moving across it. “He’d let his mouth run off with him, or say shit to wake me up.” He pauses. “But I’m not stupid. And I’m not just here to be you people’s punching bag.”

Stein is looking at him like he’s grown another head. “Mr Rory—” he starts, more quietly than before.

“Let me finish or I’ll lose it,” Mick rushes out, and Stein nods slowly. “I like you, Professor. All you guys - you’re not so bad. But you don’t get to talk to me like that. Not when you know I won’t be able to say shit back ‘cause I don’t got the words, and if I deck one of you, you’ll just call me an animal again. You don’t —” He stops and swallows. He _is_ going to get this out. “You don’t get to tell me I’m stupid.”

Stein is still staring at him. “I - Um. Mr Rory. I’m - Um. I didn’t mean —”

“Save it, Stein. I said my thing,” he growls, and gets out.

Behind him, there’s silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of ableism, in all of these. The brief reference to underage sex is a homophobic accusation, and incorrect (story #1). The implied self-harm is not graphically described (story #5). Mick gets a bit dissociated in some of these tales.
> 
> Usual disclaimer: I'm aware that the show has never overtly called Mick disabled or neurodivergent. (Knowing does not mean that I'm _happy_ about it.)
> 
> Big thanks to [everyperfectsummer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyperfectsummer/pseuds/everyperfectsummer) for beta reading.
> 
> I love comments and always reply.
> 
> On tumblr [here](https://sophiainspace.tumblr.com/)


End file.
